Chapter 3 The password is the mistress's birthday

The garage was climate-controlled, kept at a steady sixty-eight degrees to protect the fleet of luxury cars. It was 2:00 AM.

Carly moved like a shadow in her black tracksuit. She approached the Tesla Model X. It was Brice's mobile command center. He took calls in here that he wouldn't take in the house.

She didn't have the key fob. She pulled a small device from her pocket-a signal repeater she had built from spare parts. It mimicked the frequency of the key sitting in the bowl in the foyer upstairs.

The car's mirrors unfolded with a soft whir. The door handles presented themselves.

Carly slid into the driver's seat. The smell hit her instantly. Cheap vanilla and jasmine. Lola. She had been in this car. Recently. The scent was cloyingly strong, and for a reason she couldn't pinpoint, it made a wave of nausea roll through her stomach. She swallowed it down, blaming the late hour and the stress.

Carly plugged a cable into the USB port under the console and connected it to her laptop. Her fingers flew across the keyboard. She wasn't looking for GPS history; Brice was smart enough to clear that. She was looking for the cloud logs. The voice command history.

The screen prompted for a password.

She tried Brice's birthday. Incorrect.

She tried their wedding anniversary. Incorrect.

She paused. Her jaw tightened. She typed in a date she had seen on the employee file on Lola's desk earlier that day.

0614.

Access Granted.

The screen flooded with data. Carly felt a physical blow to her stomach. He used his mistress's birthday to secure his data. It was so cliché it was almost funny.

She ran a script to scrape the voice-to-text logs. Lines of text scrolled by.

Text Lola: I'll be there in ten.

Text Lola: She suspects nothing. She's not smart enough.

Then, a voice memo file. Carly put in her earbuds and hit play.

Brice's voice, clear and arrogant: "I'm telling you, Gary, the prenup is ironclad. But the mute is becoming a liability. Once the trust fund vests next month, I'm going to have her committed. She has a history of trauma. It won't be hard to prove she's unstable. A nice sanitarium in Switzerland. Out of sight, out of mind."

Carly ripped the earbuds out. Her breath hitched.

He wasn't just cheating. He was planning to erase her. To lock her away in a padded room so he could keep her money and his freedom.

The garage lights suddenly flooded on.

Carly slammed the laptop shut and dove into the footwell of the passenger side, pulling a dark utility blanket from the seat over her body.

Heavy footsteps echoed on the concrete. A flashlight beam swept over the hood of the Tesla.

"Must be a sensor glitch," a voice muttered. The night security guard.

Carly gripped a screwdriver she had pulled from the glove box. Her knuckles were white. If he opened the door, she would have to incapacitate him. She knew exactly where to strike to knock him out for twenty minutes without permanent damage. She didn't want to do it, but she would.

The footsteps paused right next to the car. Carly held her breath, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.

Then, the footsteps moved away. "Damn rats," the guard grumbled.

The lights clicked off.

Carly waited five full minutes in the dark. Then she sat up. She finished the download. She uploaded the file, along with the scan of the signed separation agreement, to a secure server in Zurich.

She exited the car and wiped the handle with her sleeve.

Back in the bedroom, she opened the laptop again. She scanned the rest of the logs.

Calendar Entry: Tomorrow, 4 PM. The Havana Room. Private.

He was taking Lola to his private club.

Carly stared at the screen. Her fear had evaporated, replaced by a cold, hard resolve. She wasn't going to hide. She was going to be there. She needed more than digital logs. She needed witnesses.

The bedroom door opened. Brice walked in, squinting in the darkness.

"Why are you awake?"

Carly shut the laptop. She pointed to the window and made a sign for cat.

Brice grunted and flopped onto the bed. He was asleep in seconds.

Carly lay next to him, staring at the ceiling. She was sleeping next to a man who wanted to bury her alive.